I Will Be There For Him
by A. Heimby
Summary: John is having some problems with his family and needs someone he can lean on, who will be there for him. Will he find the support he so desperately needs? (Not sure where this ends yet)
1. Chapter 1

John had always been protective of his big sister, and so he was always a little bit touchy when she came up in conversation, or at least in fights, and as that was what he was in the middle of with Sherlock, or rather a domestic spat, as Mrs. Hudson would say, he did not react well to him bringing her name into it.

It frustrated John because he had never quite understood how his sister's drinking problem had gotten so bad. It was not like she had a bad childhood, at least as far as he could ever tell growing up right next to her. He had to admit that she was picked on at school when she first came out of the closet, but just like Harry, soon that was one of the reasons why everybody loved her. Their parents were never harsh, and always supported their two children, and accepted them no matter what. They never showed anything but love for their little girl and baby boy.

Then again, the drinking didn't become a problem until she was older, and had already moved out. John supposes that there must have been something that she had never told him that had initially caused it. To be honest all John really knew was that he seemed to be the only person who could bring her down when she was blind drunk, and he seemed to be the only one who she would let help her, at least most of the time. He was the one that got her to go to rehab, every time, and he was the one Clara had always phoned when his sister fell of the wagon, that was before Harry finally chased her off for good. After years of being the one who tried to hold his sister together his protectiveness only became deeper. He supposed that was why he snapped so bloody badly at the consulting detective this time. He had unwittingly crossed the only line John had that was never ever to be crossed.

With his teeth gritted John tried to reply as calmly as possible, "What did you just say Sherlock?"

Sherlock blinked at him. He could tell he had touched a nerve, but he did not realize how bad it was, so he decided he was going to repeat himself, despite the nagging feeling it was a really bad idea. He didn't want to lose now. Trying not to sound worried, but angry, he repeated himself, "I said, Harry is nothing but a drunk, and I don't see why you have to run off in the middle of a case that I need your help on, simply because she fell off the wagon again, for the fifth time! She is a hopeless wreck of a human being!" He paused before he finished as he saw John's face turn an alarming shade of red. He could not make himself say the last sentence, but he still didn't want to lose so he looked down and whispered, sounding rather harsh, "She doesn't deserve another chance, John."

That was when John had lost it. He no longer had any self-control over the words coming out of his mouth. He had to focus all of his control on not punching Sherlock in the face. He took out all his pent up anger on Sherlock in one, rage inspired, rant. Yelling with an intense rage he said, "You do not have the right to talk about my sister like that Sherlock! You don't get to determine how many chances she gets! No matter how bloody brilliant you think you are; when it comes to people you are the biggest bloody idiot I know! You know nothing about caring for someone else, so of course you don't see why I have to go and help my only sister! Unlike you and bloody Mycroft we actually care about each other, like normal people do for their family members!" He continued his rant, now all he wanted to do was hurt Sherlock, but not physically, no, that Sherlock would brush right off, he wanted to hurt him emotionally, if that was even possible, so rather than yell John's voice went quiet and hateful, "I'm not a freak like you Sherlock."

Sherlock stumbled back like John had actually physically hurt him. John could see Sherlock go to say something then stop, close his mouth, and then do it all over again, but never succeeding in saying a word. John could see the pain in Sherlock's eye's as they had a silent staring contest for a short moment before John turned around and left the flat, only bothering a quick good bye to Mrs. Hudson on the stairs. Sherlock was left staring at the doorway John had left through, his mind blank of everything but the words John had said, ringing constantly through his head. He didn't understand why he felt like he had just been punched in the stomach; he didn't understand why he could not think. It was only when Mrs. Hudson came and stood in front of him that he realized he was could finally speak.

With concern on her face she asked him, "Are you alright dearie? That sounded like an awful bad spat. Like the ones I used to have with my husband." She looked at Sherlock thoughtfully, "John stormed off looking pretty angry. Do you think he'll be back in time for tea?"

Frowning down at Mrs. Hudson he answered truthfully, "I think I really messed it up this time. I'm not sure if he'll be back at all…" His voice cracked with emotion so he stopped trying to talk.

Mrs. Hudson's mothering instincts took over and she embraced the tall gangly man in a tight hug as she sat him on the couch and held his head to her chest in the way mother's do, and in her most motherly voice she whispered, "I'm sure he'll be back Sherlock. He cares for you a lot. I'm sure he just needs some time to cool off." Sherlock said nothing, but instead hugged Mrs. Hudson tighter, trying to fight the tears he felt behind his eyes, threatening to escape.

Meanwhile John was wondering the streets of London. He had a train ticket for the next morning, but didn't know where to go until then, so he continued to walk the strangely empty streets until he recognized someone leaving a pub, or rather until they recognized him walking past the pub.

"John! What in the bloody hell are you doing out at this hour?" Greg Lestrade was looking at him like he was that strange singing pop tart cat that someone had sent him a link to. John looked down at his watch; it was almost two in the morning. Had he really been wondering for that long?

He didn't know what to say so trying to be truthful he simply stated, "Sherlock." The detective seemed to be satisfied with that answer, giving him an 'I know your pain' look.

Clearing his throat a little awkwardly Lestrade asked, "Are you okay? Normally you have a ridicules amount of patience for that man. He must have done something pretty awful to have you wandering the streets at two in the bloody morning." Lestrade threw his arms in the air, gesturing all around him.

Lestrade was showing real concern for John, which made him feel stupid as he answered, "Well he told me that my sister didn't deserve another chance." He could hear how lame that sounded as he said it aloud.

"What! Harry fell of the wagon again! Weren't you there only a few months ago for an intervention?" He seemed to truly care again, but John really didn't want to get into that, so he just gave Lestrade a sad weary look, and Lestrade seemed to understand. Now that he had said it out loud John was feeling guilty about letting himself blow up at Sherlock like that. He regretted what he had said.

Looking down at his feet John managed a few words, "I think I over reacted Lestrade. I said something I won't ever be able to take back. I hurt him so much."

He looked up in time to see a slight frown cross Lestrade's face. "Call me Greg; and what could you possibly have said to him to make you think it hurt him. I mean really the only time I have ever seen words hurt Sherlock Holmes is when Donavon or Anderson call him a freak, but you would never do…" Greg stopped when he saw Johns face fall even more with shame, "Oh…" He whispered, frowning a little again.

They stood there for a moment, neither of them speaking. Finally Lestrade offered the only comfort he could think of. "You could stay at my place if you'd rather not go back tonight. I've got a spare bedroom." He tried to offer the doctor a smile, but it was more of a sad smile. Greg could tell how much John was beating himself up, and could only imagine what Sherlock was going through at the moment. The person he cared about most, and trusted most, had said the one thing that could actually hurt him.

John tried his best to return the sad little smile as he accepted, "That would good. I was starting to fear I'd end up sleeping in the streets."

John drove them to Lestrade's place in the inspector's car, since Lestrade was too drunk to drive it himself. Along the way they talked about Greg's wife, and how she had run off with his daughter's P.E. teacher. They also talked about how his daughter was taking it, and they talked a great deal about Harry, as well as Sherlock. If the two men had not been friends before the car ride, they were by the time they got to Lestrade's.

Once they got inside neither said much of anything. John was shown to the spare bedroom, and then Lestrade was off to his own room to sleep off the copious amounts of alcohol. By the time Greg woke up at ten the good doctor was already gone, bed made, and a letter saying thank you left on a lid covering the breakfast John had made the inspector. Greg could not help but brighten a little as he looked down at the delicious looking breakfast. He hadn't had someone make him breakfast since he was a boy.

Mrs. Hudson had not slept well. She kept thinking about poor Sherlock and John. John had not come home at all, and she could have sworn she heard Sherlock crying in his room when she had passed it earlier in the morning. She had never known Sherlock to cry, so she was a little frightened by it. She was trying to work up the courage to knock on his door and ask if he was alright when she heard the front door quietly open and close, and saw John appear in the doorway of the flat.

At first John seemed startled by her presence, even though he was the one new to the room, but that quickly turned to guilt as he looked down at his feet before rushing off to his room to get his luggage. His train would be leaving in an hour so he was in too much of a rush to stick around, or at least that's what he told himself. As he went passed her again on his way out he only sent her a small wave before disappearing out the door.

Sherlock poked his head out of his own door just in time to see Johns heel. He was back in his room with the door closed before Mrs. Hudson even realized he had partly emerged. She was worried for both of her boys; she had never seen something come between them like this before. They had been through so much together in their brief time at 221B Baker St, and it would be a shame if they lost that over one silly argument.

Sherlock was ashamed to admit that he had let John's words affect him so much. He was ashamed that he had cried for the first time since he was a little boy and Mycroft had stolen his pirate hat and hidden it. He was even further ashamed when the man himself showed up around noon and Sherlock knew his brother could read it all off of his clothes, his red eyes, and the fact he was even more tired than he normally was during a case, and as if that was not bad enough, Lestrade showed up only a few minutes later. To Sherlock's horror he could see Lestrade successfully make the deductions in his own head as well. It had been bad enough when only he knew about his little emotional break down, and now both these men knew as well.

"What are you even doing here Lestrade? You have today off, and I have nothing new on the case." He was half-heartedly glaring at the detective.

"Hello to you too. Well Sherlock," Lestrade seemed to frown a little, "If you must know I wanted to come by and check on you. I know that John left for his sister's this morning, and I wanted to see if you two had a chance to work things out before he left."

Sherlock laughed darkly, "Please, why would you care if John and I…well… if we had a bit of a tiff? How do you even know about our fight? Have you taken to spying on me like my dear brother here?" Sherlock sent a death glare at his brother in the arm chair John usually occupied. Oh how he wished John was there, he always helped him deal with his brother.

Lestrade sent him a sad tired look. "I care because you and John are my friends Sherlock…"

Sherlock cut him off, "No, your friends with John, I'm just your consulting detective that…"

Lestrade cut Sherlock off this time. "No, Sherlock. You're my friend too, and that is why I'm here. I ran into John last night when I was heading home from the pub, and he was in a right awful state. He felt horrible about the fight you two had last night, and no matter what you say I know that you have feelings Sherlock, and I know how much John means to you." Lestrade sent him the sad little smile again, "I was hoping he had talked to you when he came for his luggage."

Sherlock's expression softened a bit as he replied, "I did not see John this morning. He was gone before I had realized he'd been here." In a sad little voice Lestrade had never heard the man speak in before he added, "I don't think he wanted to talk to me. I think he hates me now." Both men frowned at Sherlock.

Mycroft spoke for the first time since greeting Lestrade. "Really Sherlock, I don't think that hate is even something that John Watson is capable of, let alone hating you. He cares about you far too much to hate you."

Lestrade spoke up before Sherlock had a chance to retort. "Ya Sherlock, the man seemed heartbroken over the fight you two had, and it wasn't because of anything you did, he was heartbroken because of what he said." Lestrade actually stepped forward and placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder before continuing with a sign that meant 'you should already know this you great idiot', "You are one of the most important people in John's life, if not the most important."

Sherlock looked up at the detective, knowing he was very close to losing what little control he had left. "I wasn't important enough to him for him to stay here with me instead of going off to his sister who will only hurt him more without even caring enough to notice." He was fighting hard to keep the frown off his face but not succeeding.

Lestrade sighed again as he spoke, "Sherlock, she's his sister. He has to go and help her, no matter how much he doesn't want to. No matter how much he rightfully resents her, or how much he would rather be here with you, solving cases. You don't think he knows by now that it won't work? It's not a matter of him choosing her over you. He had an obligation to go. It hurts him to see Harry like that, but he has no choice. As long as he is the only one who she will listen to, he will be going to her rescue. That's just how John is, you know that."

Sherlock did know that. It had been one of the things that fascinated him about his flatmate. His capacity to care about people seemed endless. But it still bothered him that John had gone, he didn't understand why someone would put them self through that if it hurt them so much, and he voiced that to the two men, "But why is he making himself suffer? Shouldn't his sister care that she is hurting him? I just don't understand why he has to go through this when all it ever does it make him feel worse." He looked at the men imploringly, and they just sent back the same sad little smiles they had been giving him repeatedly since their arrivals at the flat.

Mycroft spoke with a surprisingly light and comforting voice, "Brother, it pleases no one to see the good doctor go through this alone, again, but it's not like we can stop him from helping her. He grew up being the only one who she leaned on. He's the only one who is holding the poor girl together."

Almost sounding like a child Sherlock asked the two men, "If he's holding her together than who's holding him together?" He truly wanted to know.

The two men exchanged a look at that, and Sherlock knew what it meant. It meant his best friend had no one helping him, and he could see the worry in Lestrade's face, and the way his brother was holding the umbrella in his lap, which meant he too was worried. He had been so stupid. He should have realized that John needed him, weather John new it or not. Sherlock jumped to his feet, startling both men, Mycroft enough for him to spill his tea a little, and ran to his room. He knew what he had to do.

"Oi! What's all this about than Sherlock?" Lestrade yelled behind him as he handed Mycroft a napkin.

Sherlock reappeared a few minutes later with luggage. "I have to go to make sure John gets through this without any more permanent damage. If no one else is there for him, then I will be. I just need to get there and apologize first."

Lestrade was gaping at Sherlock in half fake, half real surprise as he teased, "Sherlock Holmes, actually apologize for something? I must be dreaming." Mycroft let out a small snort of laughter despite himself at the detective inspectors joke, but before he had completely recovered himself Sherlock had his coat and scarf on, and was out the door.

The two men left standing in the room looked at each other in silence for a moment before they both broke into hysteric laughter. Not completely sure why. Maybe because it had taken Sherlock so long to realize he actually cared about John, or maybe how long it had taken him to realize John actually cared about him too. It might have also simply been that the two men were in a serious need to just laugh. In any case the two men left 221B feeling a lot better than when they had arrived.


	2. Chapter 2

After arriving at his parents' house John had locked himself in his old room. He needed time to clear his mind before tackling a problem so big, and he was too distracted by what he had said to Sherlock. He sat on his old bed staring at his bedroom walls. At all the old school meddles, and certificates; the family photos and the posters. If anything it made him feel worse because it made him feel childish. Finally getting tired of cursing all the photos of his sister silently in his mind for finding a way to ruin yet another aspect of his life, he couldn't even really blame her, she didn't know she was doing it; he looked down at his phone. He was trying to get the courage to phone Sherlock and apologize, if Sherlock would even take his call.

He had just given up all hope when he heard his mother call him from the front room. He left his old bedroom for the first time since arriving to go investigate. As he was coming around the corner to the front door he started to ask, "Yes mum, what…" He stopped when he saw who was standing in the door way.

Sherlock was standing there awkwardly as his mother fussed over him. John's dad spoke from behind him, making John start, "Hey, isn't that the Sherlock fellow you share a flat with, the whatchamacallit detective?"

With a breath of surprise escaping him John answered, "Consulting detective, and yes it is." He walked up to Sherlock and in the same surprised tone asked, "What are you doing here Sherlock? You're in the middle of a case." That had been the only reason John had not asked his friend to come on this trip with him, at least before the fight. He hadn't wanted to leave his friend behind but he also thought he would never be able to drag Sherlock away from a case. He was looking at the detective with a mixture of confusion and awe. He actually walked up to Sherlock and poked him in the arm to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"Oi! John, why did you just poke me?" Sherlock was looking down at John with his normal frown of confusion when it came to the good doctor's oddities. Sherlock started to feel uncomfortable with three different pairs of eye's all giving him the same Watson style disbelief face. He realized no one was going to say anything, so awkwardly, and quietly, he offered an explanation for his sudden appearance. "Well, John…I'm here because Mycroft and Lestrade came by this afternoon and they made me realize, however unintentionally, that I had to be here… with you… right now." He gave John an awkward smile that actually made him look like he was in pain.

John was having trouble grasping this, and sounding rather unintelligent stammered, "But, but…but you're in the middle of a case."

At this Sherlock actually smiled and gave John the same 'you should already know this you great idiot' look he had gotten from Lestrade. In a surprisingly caring voice he said, "Come now John, you are more important than some case." He smirked when he saw John manage to look even more confused and surprised somehow.

The two men just stared at each other for a moment until Mrs. Watson cleared her throat, drawing Sherlock's attention. "We have a spare room Sherlock, if you'd like to stay here," She then gave Sherlock and John a calculating look and added, "If you'll want a separate room." John actually face palmed at his mothers question.

Sherlock didn't seem to take notice, or at least did not show he did, to the suggestive offer, but instead answered in a polite tone, "The spare bedroom would be lovely." He smiled at the short women standing in front of him.

Not wanting his mother to say anything else John quickly offered Sherlock to show him to his room, and seeming to pick up on John's desperation to leave the room, Sherlock quickly accepted. They stayed silent until John was sitting on the edge of the bed in the spare room, his head in his hands, as his elbows rested on his knees.

Sherlock, once again, was the first to say anything. "So is that why you are so defensive when people think we are a couple? Because you get it enough at home?" He truly sounded curious.

John sighed. "Yes. My parents have convinced themselves that since Harry is gay that I must be too. Every time I try to tell them otherwise they point out my lack of a love life, so I always lose, and just end up either changing the subject or just leaving the room." He rubbed his eyes before looking up at Sherlock again, putting his chin in his hand, and adding, "So why are you here Sherlock?"

Sherlock frowned and John quickly added, "Not that I mind. It's just that we didn't leave on the best of terms. To be honest I rather like having someone here with me, but…" John paused before continuing in a small voice and looking down at his lap, "I thought you might hate me now."

Sherlock actually laughed at this, startling John so much he slipped off the edge of the bed, landing on the hard floor rather ungracefully. This only made Sherlock laugh more, which made John's already red face turn even redder with embarrassment and confusion. In an incredulous voice John blurted, "Sherlock…?!"

The detective realized that John looked hurt so he stifled his laugh to say, "John I could never hate you. No matter what you say, even if you called me…that word…and actually meant it I could not hate you." Sending John a huge smile he added, "You're my best friend John. That is why I am here. You need support just as much as anybody else in this world, and I think that is something that falls to the best friend, now isn't it." He stated the last part like a fact, not a question.

John stammered, "Well…ye…yes, I suppose it does." He looked at his feet while sitting back up on the bed as he licked his lips in agitation, "I am sorry Sherlock…for what I said. I was just so angry, mostly at myself for being dragged back into… this," He gestured to the room in general while keeping his head down, "I took it out on you and that isn't fair." He looked up at Sherlock. "Please just know that I didn't mean it. I don't expect you to forgive me but…"

He was cut off by Sherlock as the gangly man strode toward the bed then in one quick movement wrapped him in a hug and said in a soft voice, "John, of course I forgive you. I only hope that you can forgive me for what I said. Mycroft and Lestrade helped me realize why you had to come here. I get it now. She's your sister and you care about her, and you want to be there for her. You don't want to see her hurting and not try to help her. " Sherlock paused seeming unsure if he should continue, never letting go of John, but evidently decided to go on because then he added, "That's why I came; to help you. I know how hard it is on you whenever you have to come back here to help her. I couldn't just let you hurt. I had to be here for you." He was still awkwardly hugging John from the side like a child hugging a large teddy bear.

"Sherlock…" John was interrupted by the bedroom door being opened as his mother and father stuck there heads in.

"Dinner is ready you two, whenever you are ready to come out." She winked at them with a smirk on her face and then was gone with her husband right behind her. John was unsure whether his mother had meant the double entendre, or maybe triple entendre. Both men automatically separated and got to their feet, both blushing with embarrassment at Mrs. Watson's words, as they headed out the bedroom door for dinner.

Dinner was spent in awkward conversation. Half the time John's mother brought anything up her son would quickly shut it down, and though Sherlock was curious he didn't want to push it. He knew he and John were on thin ice, and he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize what little support their relationship had left. So instead the focus was largely on him and his work. John didn't seem to be the only one who was thrilled by some danger. Mr. and Mrs. Watson ate up every word Sherlock said about the case he had just been working on before coming to join John in his 'visit'.

Smiling sweetly at Sherlock Mrs. Watson said, "I'm just so happy that there is finally someone taking care of my little John. He is forever the one supporting other's, and I had come to fear no one was supporting him, but I see now he has you Sherlock." She squeezed his hand that was sitting on the table once.

Sherlock genuinely smiled back, "It's my pleasure Mrs. Watson. There is no one who deserves support more than your son. Although I must admit it only recently hit me that your son might need some support through the events that brought us all hear." His smile faulted but it was quickly put back, a little less genuine then before. John could tell Sherlock's mind had wandered back to Harry, and he knew it must bug the detective to not know how to fix this one.

After dinner Mr. Watson and Sherlock retired to the living room while John and his mother went to get some ice cream from the ice box. Sherlock was startled to see the warm smile disappear instantly with the absence of John. For a second Sherlock feared that the man knew what he had said about his daughter but his fear was quickly replaced when Mr. Watson started to speak. "Now, I've never actually had to have this talk with anyone before, seeing as Harry's dates were all girls, and that made it Mrs. Watson's responsibility, but I won't let that stop me. I need to know that you won't hurt my son. He may play the tough soldier, but he really is a very sweet and sensitive boy, but I'm not, and I will protect my children from as much pain as I can…" He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand which was resting on the arm of his chair, obviously thinking of Harry, "As long as I can do anything I will." He now looked at Sherlock while keeping his head rested on his hand. "So tell me what your intentions are toward my son." He had a surprising amount of authority in his voice as he spoke, which contrasted with his sweet demeanor and kind face.

Sherlock was unsure of how to answer the question so he tried to tell the most basic truths. Stuttering a little he spluttered, "Well we…I… Uh… rather we aren't actually a couple, we are just friends and flatmate's…but I…I do want to ensure you that the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt your son. Even if we are not a couple he is still one of the most important people in this world to me. I would rather be shot then intentionally hurt him." Seeing a flicker of doubt on Mr. Watson's face Sherlock added for emphasis, "I deeply care about your son Mr. Watson, don't doubt that."

At that Mr. Watson actually laughed, lifting his head from his hand, and said, "You could actually tell I was feeling doubt, how marvelous! You truly are as brilliant as my son says, but also as ignorant about some things as he wrote in his blog." Sherlock stared at him confused, so he elaborated, still laughing, "I never doubted you were telling the truth about caring for my son," At that point John and his mother walked in, and evidently didn't hear the conversation that had been taking place because John stumbled and almost spilled Sherlock's ice cream on him when Mr. Watson continued, "I doubted your denial of being a couple."

Sherlock caught the bowl before it could spill over his lap but was too distracted by that to properly catch John as he fell right behind it, falling right into Sherlock's lap. Both turned an alarming shade of red as John tried to jump up, but not quick enough before John's mothers camera let go a great flash, only proving to disorient them more, making it so that instead as John stood up he fell on the floor, and brought Sherlock along with him as he tried to catch himself, with more disorienting flashes as Sherlock wound up laying half over John their faces only inches apart. Once the far too bright flashes stopped Sherlock rolled over and got to his feet and helped John up, both still the same alarming shade of red. Mr. and Mrs. Watson were laughing as the two made a show about sitting on opposite sides of the room.

The conversation turned to all of their friends they had back in London, and although both men could not look at each other without turning a light shade of pink the evening was spent pleasantly, at least as pleasantly as possible considering why they were all there. Mr. and Mrs. Watson seemed to make a game out of being able to make innuendos out of innocent sounding phrases but never directly commented on the nature of John's and Sherlock's relationship again that night.

When it came time for everybody to go to bed Sherlock stopped outside of John room and gave him a hug good night and said, "I truly am sorry about last night, and please know that I believe and forgive you."

John was happy to return his friends somewhat awkward hug and quietly said, "I never really held it against you Sherlock, and thank you for forgiving me." He hugged him a little tighter as he said, "Good night Sherlock."

John could tell Sherlock was smiling as he said, "Good night John." Then there was a flash from the camera again as they heard his parents giggling down the hall with the camera pointed in their direction.


End file.
